“It’s not like I had any say in the matter.” I can’t keep my words from sounding cross. I actually thought I looked pretty nice. “This is just what she put me in.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Pippy. Just that you look different than normal.”
“Did you need something?”
“Mariano is on the phone for you.”
I clatter down the stairs to Father’s office as fast as my pained toes will allow. When I reach the telephone, I say a breathless, “Hi.”
“I’m trying to wrap up a report before I come to the wedding, so I don’t have long, but I saw the message you left for me. Is it urgent?”
“Very.” In a string of words, I detail what I learned from David Barrow the night before, ignoring as best I can the looks Walter gives me as he stands beside the desk. “So, obviously,” I conclude, “we need to put together a plan to go after the Finnegans.”
“Piper,” Mariano and Walter simultaneously say. Mariano’s tone is a warning, Walter’s a chastisement.
“I said a plan. Which means I clearly don’t intend to just rush into their headquarters.”
“We can’t go after them without convincing evidence,” Mariano says. “We just can’t. And it’s not like I haven’t already looked for it.”
Walter has taken to pacing the room.
I angle away from him. “But why not? They’re not so untouchable, are they? It’s not like they’re Al Capone.”
“It should scare you that Al Capone is our measuring stick, Piper.”
“We have an eyewitness who saw their car. That’s evidence.”
“He’s also a witness who doesn’t want to talk. That’s a problem. We can discuss this more at the wedding, okay? As it is, I’m already going to miss the ceremony.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. This is a hard day for you. I want to be there.”
“Oh.” Seems a silly thing to say, but I’m too shocked by his thoughtfulness to think up anything clever. “Well . . . good-bye.”
I place the ear piece back on the hook. Even without me saying so, Mariano knew today would be hard for me. He cared about that.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Walter’s expression—jaw clenched, eyes narrowed—matches his rock-hard tone.
“About the Finnegans?”
“I was with you all night. How could you not tell me?”
I straighten my shoulders so we’re not quite so unevenly matched. “Maybe I didn’t want to get yelled at any more than I already was.”
I walk past him.
He stays right on my heels. “I only yelled at you last night because it seems like you don’t care at all about your personal safety. I know you want to find Lydia at all costs, but your life is too high a price to pay.”
“You’re being dramatic. It won’t come to that.”
Listen to him, Piper. Lydia’s voice, soft and urgent.
My mind flits to finding Father with his gun, his chair facing the front door as if expectant. To the look in Mariano’s eyes as he detailed that Lydia had been wearing my coat, carrying a handkerchief with my initials.
To my nightstand drawer, inexplicably open when it should have been closed.
I stop at the foot of the stairs and face Walter. “I’m not stupid. I won’t go after them on my own.”
Walter holds my gaze a moment. Opens his mouth. Closes it.
“Piper?” Jane’s voice from above is like a blast of winter Chicago wind. “I need you up here.”
I breathe out a private, frustrated sigh. “For what?”
Even from the first floor, I see the pinch of her expression. “It’s almost time to go. We need to finish getting ready.”
“I’m done.”
“Piper, come upstairs now.”
She’s less than a decade older than me, but she thinks she can use the same commands my mother did when I was five?
“Piper.” My name is a whispered admonishment on Walter’s lips, and it’s like a smack of betrayal. He turns to Jane in her snow-white glory up on the staircase. “You look lovely, Miss Miller. I’ll bring the car around.”
Just like at the speakeasy, I suddenly feel as though he’s abandoned me.
“Thank you, Walter.” Her dismissal is cool as she glides down the stairs toward me.
He slips away.
“Piper.” Jane’s voice is crisp, like a bite of sour apple. “I’m sure today isn’t the happiest day of your life. And I know you’re used to running this place—”
A snort escapes me.
“But today is my day.” Her eyes are sharp. “I’ve watched both my little sisters get married, many of my younger cousins, and all my college girlfriends. Today is finally my turn, and you’re not going to ruin this by making time with the hired help. Do you understand me?”
She doesn’t wait for my answer—which would have been an incredulous, “Making time?”—just holds her white lace skirts and marches upstairs.
I grip the banister as my head spins with anger.
“That lady is a real piece of work.”
I startle at the sound of Alana’s voice. She’s tucked away in the living room, looking like the embodiment of the modern woman in her fringed lavender dress and crystal diadem. She is graceful and feminine, and beside her I’m a child playing dress up.